


A Moment in the Steam

by carryon214



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Masturbation, My First Fanfic, Nipple Play, Voyeurism, alternating pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 12:14:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20657078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryon214/pseuds/carryon214
Summary: In which the farmer heads to the bath house to relax after a long day and gets more than she bargained for.





	A Moment in the Steam

**Author's Note:**

> PSA: Hi! This is my first fanfic ever, so pardon if things are messy. Also, it was initially written purely for my own entertainment, so this obviously isn't ~serious~ literature. There are mistakes. Thanks for giving it a shot <3

It had been a long autumn day spent toiling in the fields, the heat cut only by a slight, biting chill carried on the whistling breeze, and the farmer was drenched in sweat. The heavy orange yolk of the sun had beaten down on her as she stooped over with scythe in hand, harvesting cranberries and fertilizing the soft, earthy patches of soil her own two hands had cut into the earth. The knees of her worn overalls were stained so deeply with the dark dirt she was certain there would be permanent markings remaining for seasons to come. Groaning as she deposited her tools into a chest near the porch of her house, she stumbled inside and fought off the urge to collapse onto her bed and burrow beneath the covers all winter, a crocus waiting for spring under a blanket of powdered sugar snow. However tempting, she knew she stunk of sweat and rot and berry juice, and her bed was a cozy haven currently untainted by the scents of a long day on the farm.  
“I need a bath.” She spoke the sentence out loud to no one in particular, laughing slightly and shaking her head as her loyal pup, Butterscotch, perked up his ears and thumped the floor with his tail at her voice. “I love you, you little munch.” She whispered, giving his ears a good scratch before wincing at the pain in her sore muscles from the day’s labor. _ Yeah, a bath would be good. _ Just the thought of the silky water lapping against her skin, tendrils of steam curling towards the arched ceiling as she slipped beneath the surface and allowed the heat to melt away the stress and tension from her bones sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.  
“Alright. Food, then bath.” She loped painfully towards the fridge and broke open a fresh melon, relishing the luscious sweetness of the pink flesh as its flavor danced across her tongue. When her appetite was sated, she grabbed a bottle of shampoo, a loofah, a towel, and the long, worn Tunnelers t-shirt she usually wore to bed and placed them in a bag before setting off on the trek to the bathhouse. The sun had just begun to sink below the horizon, tracing the sky with soft muted hues of orange, peony, and a pale buttery yellow, drenching the valley in the gentle glow. The farmer‘s lips curved upwards in a smile as she entered the bathhouse and felt the familiar steam-soaked air dance across her skin. She hummed a tune, something slow and sweet tingling with the promise of spring, and recognizing her solitude, set down her bag by the showers and languidly stripped off her sweat-soaked clothing. It is a pleasure to peel the sticky fabric from her skin, and as she shook her hair free from its top knot and stepped under the warm, gentle rain of the shower, she found herself noticing every sensation with a heightened sense of awareness. Massaging jasmine-scented shampoo into her hair, she began to feel a need rising deep within her core as the water sluiced down the curves of her body. Biting her lip, the farmer tilted her head back into the flow and drew her soapy hands over her chest, her breath hitching as her palms brushed over her nipples, which stiffened with the contact. She closed her eyes and slowly moved her fingers across her chest, stomach, hips, then thighs. As much as she loves Stardew Valley compared to Zuzu City, she’s been alone in the little farmhouse for two seasons now, and in the loneliness her body craves the touch of a man. _Or my touch,_ she recognized with a shiver as her fingers dipped down and circled over her clit. She took a halting, shuddering breath as she continued to trace agonizingly slow circles over her clit, the sudden growing pleasure nearly making her knees buckle. Panting, she forced herself to stop, oddly nervous someone will enter the bathhouse (unlikely) and see her private ministrations. Willing herself to slow her breathing and push the need away, she turned off the shower and slipped into her admittedly tiny black bikini; she hadn’t had time to make a trip out to the city and purchase a new one after she’d grown more muscular from her daily work on the farm. Chastising herself for the last vestiges of her arousal, she adjusted the bottoms of her bikini and tried to think of anything but a strong man holding her down and fucking her senseless. _ So much for a relaxing evening. _ She shook her head and exited the locker room, determined to enjoy the spa. Padding lightly across the slippery tiles, she made her way to the nearest steps and slides into the hot water. She couldn't hold back the moan of pleasure which poured from her lips like honey, rich and sweet, as she sunk into the soothing waters and felt her aching bones relax. Steam curled in thick plumes off of the aqua water, rising to the ceiling in a slow, languid way the farmer observed with half-lidded eyes. She sighed slightly in total relaxation before tilting her head back to rest against the tiles and closing her eyes, allowing her mind to drift as she basked in the tranquil heat. ______

__

_ _-_ _

__ Shane drained another beer, registering nothing about the bitter taste except the feeling of it slipping into his stomach, cold as ice against his throat. He wasn’t going for pleasantly buzzed tonight. No, tonight he needed the blackout haze the drink provided, a short-lived yet oh-so-necessary break from the shitshow that was his life. He’d spent the entire day stocking shelves at Joja Mart, working his ass off for that evil bastard Morris, who at the end of the day had the audacity to cut his pay for the second time that month, citing “corporate expansion” as the reason with a sickeningly sympathetic grin on his face. “I’m sure you understand, sonny,” he’d said, his voice oozing with false sincerity that made Shane seethe with the quiet rage always simmering beneath his surface. “This valley just isn’t large enough to be profitable. You’re lucky we’re paying you at all. The truth is, you’re expendable. That’s all there is to it.” Expendable. That single word was enough to drive him to the edge of places he visited in his mind far too often to be healthy. He’d been trying to cut back on the swill that week, for Jas, but he could no longer bear the dismal circumstances of his monotonous daily existence without a crutch. The truth is, he was expendable, and he knew it. Knew it so well he considered making good and sure he removed his burdensome presence from Jas and Marnie and the entire town forever. But as usual, he was too chickenshit to go through with it. And so here he was, drowning his sorrows in cheap beer while naked in the back corner of the bath house, his clothes in a crumpled pile on the slick tile lining the edge of the shimmering turquoise water. He could always count on the bathhouse to be alone—he was pretty sure no one else except Linus even knew it existed, and the older man was content to leave Shane alone. The two shared an understanding of sorts that neither could be bothered with significant relationships with those in the town, and so each time they saw each other they offered the other a simple nod before passing on. Sighing, Shane cracked open a new bottle and was in the process of bringing it to his lips when a sound caused him to freeze. A light splash followed by a low, distinctly feminine moan of pure pleasure. His entire body seemed to shudder in reaction to the noise, and before he could stop himself, he placed the beer on the edge of the rippling pool and slunk forward ever so slightly to see across the bathhouse. Peering through the steam, he picked out a delicate figure at the far edge of the baths, eyes closed as she rested her head against the tile and soaked beneath the depths. It took him a minute, what with all the beer he’d consumed, to place her, as for a moment she seemed like a mirage amongst the steam, a fantasy creature too beautiful for reality made of air and light and mist. Then he remembered—she was the new farmer who had arrived not two seasons ago, who he saw only in glimpses as she flitted across the saloon, chatting with each patron as if she’d known them for years. He could never bring himself to fully look at her then; she was too happy, too earnest, too new, too everything he couldn’t bear to comprehend in his perpetual state of misery and shame. Yet now, in the humid air of the bathhouse, flickering with light reflecting off of the rippling water, it seemed alright to gaze at her. A secret moment almost removed from time. Only her torso protruded from the baths, the rest of her submerged in the warmth, and his gaze traced the expression of peace on her face with curiosity. She was beautiful, he knew, it was a fact he’d always known since the second she’d stepped into the saloon the first time in those dumb overalls she wore every day. Her hair was darker now that it was wet, falling in a slick curtain over her back, and as he appraised her toned arms and the freckles lightly dusting her nose, cheeks, and shoulders, he began to feel something strange in the pit of his stomach, a hot, urgent roar surging to life. It was the beer and the sight of the gorgeous woman so vulnerable and almost wanton across the pool in her tiny black swimsuit that did it. The lower part of himself twitched and began to rise. He knew it was shit but at this point he didn’t care, he couldn’t stop himself from lowering his gaze to her chest. As he scanned her breasts appreciatively, Shane noticed with a sudden cold shock that her nipples were visibly hard. The stiff little nubs poked indentations in her tight top, and he barely bit back an actual growl of arousal at the lewd sight. Sliding his hand under the warm water, he began to stroke himself, hungrily taking in every detail of her chest. It rose and fell as she breathed, her breasts bobbing up and down in a hypnotic rhythm, those perky nipples standing at attention, like two neon signs screaming “fuck me, please” at the universe. Shane could barely keep it together, his hand moving faster in the water, light splashes rippling out from the jerking movements of his arm. His breathing picked up, and eventually he was letting out quiet grunts and stunted moans as he imagined feeling her chest, cupping her breasts in his palms and making her gasp as he twiddled those tight nipples beneath his nimble fingers. Yoba, how long had it been since he’d touched a woman like that, made her come apart in his hands? At least a year, maybe more, his last visit to Zuzu City and a regretful one night stand with his ex. But he couldn’t think of that now, not with the siren lying in the vapor before him, perhaps the most deliciously erotic sight he’d beheld in his whole life. He wanted to move his hand faster, rougher, but would the splashes draw her attention...? Rational thought went out the window as a soft sigh fell from her luscious lips, and the beer took control of Shane’s actions, his hand moving faster, faster, towards a burning, rushing peak, closer, closer- oh, Yoba-!  
And then she moved and he stopped, a jolt of terror ripping through him and tearing the delicious climax from his grasp like a cold shower. Had she seen? No, impossible. She hadn’t yet noticed him as she stretched, eyes still closed, and he tore his gaze away as steam wreathed her tanned skin, hoping to slip away unnoticed to his room in Marnie’s house, blueballed and ashamed at his actions. What was he thinking, perving at her like that? Guilt and self-hatred slithered hot and tight in his stomach, and he gritted his teeth as he turned to exit the pool, as silently as he could. And then a light feminine voice stopped him in his tracks. “Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was here.”  
_ Fuck.__ _

_ __ _

_ _-_ _

__ When the farmer opened her eyes again, she didn’t know how much time had passed, but she felt almost like she was floating in her own body. She wondered if the hot water was imbued with a strange sort of magic due to how easily it wiped away any traces of the day’s toil, leaving behind only a drowsy sense of total peace. Stretching, she wandered forwards in the water, wanting to wade across to the back of the room, further away from the locker rooms. Yet as she moved closer, she registered with surprise a hazy figure in the steam. Squinting, she recognized Shane, the surly man who sequestered a corner of the Stardrop to himself each night, responding to any attempts at communication with barbed sentences crafted to keep others away. While at first she’d been mildly hurt by his harshness, the other villagers had eventually convinced her he was a lost cause, and she’d quit trying to offer him a drink or a friendly conversation or even a smile. It was strange to find him here tonight, knowing he liked to be alone. With a twinge of guilt, she realized he’d probably meant for it to stay that way, and she was interrupting his solitude. Before she could stop herself, she called out to him.  
“Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was here.” _Shit, why did I say that? I should have just left before he noticed me._ Wincing internally, the farmer braced herself for a cold dismissal as his dark eyes met hers.__  
“S’ok.” His voice was deep, almost velvety, and at first she thought she’d imagined his response. When he continued, she realized it was real. “Want a drink?” He seemed as surprised as she was as the words left his mouth, but he didn’t take them back, and after a short pause the farmer offered him a small smile and a nod, wading towards him through the soft light. He wordlessly cracked open a new beer and handed it to her, averting his eyes and settling them on a point far off in the distance, a bored expression on his face. Sipping the miraculously cold amber liquid, the farmer leaned back against the wall and lazily observed him. He was handsome in his own way, she concluded, his sharp, cold eyes carrying a certain sort of intelligence and mystery, his thick eyebrows nearly always furrowed in mild frustration with some unnameable thing, and the stubble shadowing his sharp jawline giving him an edge, a hardness. She shivered. Yeah, he was handsome. Although he was thicker and softer in some places, his broad shoulders told of a natural strength, and she found herself wondering, as her gaze slipped down to his fingers wrapped around a bottle, what else his hands could hold. When she finished her drink and set it on the tile with a telltale clink, he drew his eyes back to her and handed her another bottle, still silent. The only sound in the room was the light lapping of the waves against the edges of the pool and the soft clinks of bottles set down and picked up again. The farmer felt a warm buzz zip down her spine as the alcohol set in, and she frowned at the empty bottle in her hand, simultaneously wondering how she’d drank it so fast (was it her second or third?) and remembering she was a lightweight. Shane looked at her with that dark gaze of his and she found herself laughing lightly, almost giddy with alcohol and relaxation and how pretty the moment was, drinking cold beers in hot water with the town asshole. “You’re something else, you know that?” She blurted out before she could stop herself. “You never talk to me except to tell me to fuck off, and now you’re offering me a beer.” Shane lifted one shoulder in a shrug.  
“You looked like you could use one.” He said, his voice husky from lack of use. The farmer’s head swirled as she laughed and nodded, her nose crinkling as she smiled. “You’re kind of an ass, you know that?” She said, folding her arms across her chest. “  
“Yeah, I know.”  
“Glad you can admit it.” She snorted, and then she couldn’t stop herself from laughing again at her boldness, and at the absurdity of the situation. It was so nice, sitting there with him, sipping, smiling. Then he smiled too, lifting one corner of his mouth and shaking his head, and it was so rare and sudden that to the farmer he was gorgeous there in that moment, almost irresistible. So when the impulse struck she listened, and she leaned forwards and kissed him. 

_ __ _

_ _-_ _

__ “Want a beer?” He couldn’t believe he’d actually said it. From the looks of it, she couldn’t either, and she raised her eyebrows in mild amusement before accepting, her fingers brushing his as he passed her a bottle. He tore his gaze away from her before it could fall again to her chest, and he fixed a bored expression on his face as he stared across the pool, downing another beer and cursing himself internally. Stupid. What the hell are you doing? He couldn’t be sitting her with her, naked and still slightly hard beneath the water from touching himself at just the sight of her innocently lounging across the spa. What was wrong with him? She set her bottle down with a clink, startling him out of his self loathing, and he passed her another before he could stop himself, unwilling to let the moment end. After handing her a third bottle he couldn’t help but admire how her slender fingers wrapped around the green glass, how her lips pursed when she brought it to her mouth. She had beautiful lips. Every part of her was beautiful, Shane noticed, almost bitter at the thought. When she laughed at their exchange, crinkling her nose in a way that somehow made her even more gorgeous, he felt that heat grow in him again. Why was she smiling while talking to him? _Wait, what the hell is she-_  
When she leaned forwards and kissed him, he couldn’t react for a moment, couldn’t comprehend that it was real and tangible and actually happening. Then her slender, toned arms were wrapping around his neck and he was pulling her to him, kissing her back with a fiery intensity fueled by alcohol and arousal and heat. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and gripped his hair with one hand and pushed her mound against his hard shaft, and he was filled with utter ecstasy at her want. She cooed in delight when she realized he was naked and kissed him harder, her soft lips like a slice of heaven on earth. “Yoba, you’re hot.” He gasped out, dipping his mouth to her neck and nipping at her smooth skin, hissing between his teeth as she ground against him in desperate, clumsy motions. When her hot, insistent mouth latched onto his again, their kisses increasing with desire, he reached forward and grasped her chest with both hands. _Unreal. This is unreal._ He managed to think before she wrapped her legs around his waist and his mind went blank with pleasure. She gasped when he pushed her against the tiled wall of the pool, his hands slipping under her top and thumbing at her sensitive nipples, rolling them between his fingers. He was rewarded with a sharp moan when he pinched them, followed by soft mewling coos of pleasure as he continued to fondle them, each touch sparking his own euphoria. She began kissing his neck and he saw stars, her soft skin beneath his fingers slick with condensation as he caressed her over and over. Reaching one hand behind her back he fumbled with the clasp of her top before she reached back and unlatched it for him, the damp fabric falling away to reveal her naked glory. He couldn’t resist any longer and dipped his head, taking a pert pink nipple in his mouth and lapping at it, swirling his tongue around the bud and lavishing in her sugary moans. As he suckled at her, he slid his hand into the rippling water and hooked a finger beneath the tight fabric concealing her, then slipped between her folds and found her clit. He rubbed the little pearl slowly then faster, picking up the pace as she bucked her hips against his hand, groaning and shuddering and grasping at his neck and shoulders like it was all she could do just to hold onto him. It was hot, so hot he felt himself straining against her, his pleasure building with her own. He imagined tasting her, burying his face in her crotch and coating his tongue with her sweet nectar—and then with an animalistic growl he lifted her up in one motion and set her atop the tiles. Meeting those stunning eyes, bright and drunk with the alcohol and his rapture, he felt a spike of heat pound through his core. Her breath was coming in short gasps and she smelled of jasmine and melon and she was quite possibly the hottest creature he’d ever seen, let alone touched. And then, while he was drinking in his fill of her appearance, she slowly spread her thighs in an invitation, her eyes never leaving his but her breathing picking up as she exposed herself to him. He gave her a crooked grin before pressing his lips to her clit in a gentle kiss.__  
“Shane...” she breathed, and the sound of his name in her voice was almost unbearable. She sunk back on her elbows in the steam, too weak to hold herself up, and moaned one long unbroken note while he gripped her quivering thighs tight and ravished her with his lips. “Shane!” She cried it out, lurching with pleasure, grinding furiously against him, and he realized he didn’t even know her name. He’d always just called her sunshine in his head, since everyone in the saloon treated her like the sun shone out of her ass. So he growled the nickname into her and buried his face deeper, licking faster, harder, and her moans grew more desperate, wrenching from her throat like otherworldly cries of total euphoria.  
“Cum for me.” He demanded it, and she immediately complied, screaming out and climaxing with an intensity he didn’t know was possible, arching her back and shuddering and convulsing and expelling her sweetness with shaking gasps of “Sh-Shane- Shane... Shane.....”  
“Yoba, Sunshine-“ he choked out before succumbing to the tension building in his loins and came in tandem with her into the hot water, spurting his seed and thrusting at nothing and nearly collapsing into the waves with the overwhelming force of it all.  
When he found his senses again, she was asleep on the tile, her legs still spread apart, feet dangling in the turquoise waves, the only sound his ragged breathing and the gentle slap of the water as it lapped against the edge of the pool. Nectar dribbled out of her—her thighs were shining with it, the evidence of her arousal. Gazing at the sight, knowing he’d be jerking off to it for days if not weeks, Shane allowed himself one long lick up the length of her thigh before climbing out of the water, steam rising off of his skin. He pulled on his clothes before gathering her into his arms and carrying her into the women’s locker room, marveling at his ability to walk in a straight line after consuming so much alcohol. A dark pride curled in his chest as he realized he hadn’t even fucked her and he’d caused her to pass out from pleasure—although he was sure alcohol and sheer exhaustion had played a part as well. He looked down at her face as he dried her off with a fluffy white towel, more gentle than he knew he could be, and understood that she wouldn’t remember this in the morning. He’d go back to his existence as the town asshole, and she’d go back to hers as a ray of light in Stardew Valley, wholly uninterested in the dismal reality of his life. So he cherished this moment as he pulled her Tunnelers shirt over her head and slipped her arms through the holes, trying not to look at how her nipples still poked through the soft fabric, not to feel the lacy softness of the panties he pulled over her mound, not to notice how her long legs glistened in the light. Then, he slung her bag over his back and pulled her into his arms for the final time. He froze as she snuggled closer to him, her head in the crook between his neck and shoulder, and for some reason he wanted to cry. But instead he carried her through the autumn night to the little dilapidated farmhouse (unlocked, really Sunshine?) and set her on her bed, pulling the patchwork quilt over her slumbering body. He snuck her dog a piece of bread from his pocket (it had been for the chickens) and snorted as the pup immediately rolled over and panted lovingly. “Some guard dog you are.” He whispered, before moving to the door. He paused there for a moment in the threshold, a junction between this fantasy night and the rest of his boring, pathetic life. “Sleep well, Sunshine,” he said, and stepped out into the chill. 


End file.
